After washing up, He Chu San had Xia Liu Yi wrap himself in a towel and wait on the sofa while he went into the bedroom to change the sheets and quilt covers. Only then did he respectfully “invite” his lordship back to bed. The two nestled together and spoke a few more words; He Chu San’s eyes gradually drooped shut—having managed a whole wedding, drunk quite a bit, and exerted himself through most of the night, he truly could not hold on any longer.
“A’San,” Xia Liu Yi suddenly called.
“Mmm…” He Chu San answered drowsily.
“I’m going to make a trip to Guangzhou tomorrow.”
He Chu San opened his eyes. “What for?”
“Xiao Ma has an uncle over there raising funds to open a garment factory. He wants to pull me in as an investor. I’ll go take a look first.”
“Can’t you send someone else?” He Chu San asked softly.
“This is a personal investment. It has nothing to do with the company.”
“Let me go with you.”
Xia Liu Yi shook his head and kissed him in quiet reassurance—he did not wish to explain further; the more said, the more mistakes made.
He Chu San frowned faintly, looking at him with a tired and complicated gaze. That familiar sensation returned to Xia Liu Yi—as though he were transparent under that gaze. Yet he forced himself to endure it, keeping his expression calm and composed. Suddenly, He Chu San pouted, buried his head into his chest, and in a mock-tearful tone complained, “Boss, you sleep with me and then just leave—do you even have any humanity?”
Xia Liu Yi secretly let out a breath, stroking his head to soothe him. “Be good. I’ll be back in a few days.”
“How many days exactly?”
“Hard to say. Maybe one or two weeks.”
“One or two weeks is so long!” He Chu San sounded as though he might truly cry.
Xia Liu Yi lowered his proud façade as a big boss, coaxing and kissing him endlessly, just short of letting himself be ridden like a horse. He Chu San demanded that after returning, he set aside time for the two of them to travel together—he agreed. Then he demanded that from now on Xia Liu Yi not touch even a single cigarette—he agreed as well. He even insisted that Qin Hao be replaced, that another brother accompany him for boxing practice, and that Qin Hao not be allowed near him.
Xia Liu Yi was both amused and exasperated. “Even boxing is not allowed?”
“Not allowed.” With fists and feet flying, brushing and bumping—who knew if sparks might fly? You’ve no idea how tempting you look when you’re sweating!
“Are you really jealous of him?” Xia Liu Yi could not understand. “It’s not like I’d ever take a fancy to him.”
“What if he takes a fancy to you?”
“You think everyone’s like you?” Xia Liu Yi tugged his cheek. “Who besides you would fall for me?”
He Chu San was shocked. “No one else has ever pursued you?”
“No.”
In his youth, Xia Liu Yi had spent his days wielding blades and clubs, fighting and killing. Later, at a young age, he rose to become Dragon Head. Other than the audacious He Chu San, who would dare provoke him?
He Chu San was stunned, mumbling, “Could it be… since it’s your first time being pursued, you’ve never seen much of the world, so I managed to coax you into it…”
“Damn you!”
“Ah—ah—ah! It hurts, it hurts! I was joking! I’m wrong, I’m wrong!”
“Shut up and sleep!”
“Okay, okay.”
…
After his bout of acting cute and venting his jealousy, He Chu San nestled contentedly into Xia Liu Yi’s arms and fell asleep. Before long, his breathing turned deep and even. Xia Liu Yi, too, was utterly exhausted, yet he lay there with eyes open, watching He Chu San’s peaceful sleeping face, unable to fall asleep for a long time.
Everything he had just told He Chu San was, of course, a lie. Tomorrow, he would take Qin Hao and Xiao Ma to personally “escort” Jade Guanyin back to Thailand to meet Golden Maitreya. On the surface, it was to present a grand gift to his godfather; in truth, it was to join forces with Jade Guanyin and strike at the godfather’s stronghold—each taking what they needed.
Several months ago, Jade Guanyin and Golden Maitreya had grown estranged. After a failed assassination attempt on him, she fled, taking with her some of his confidential materials. Golden Maitreya dispatched half of his so-called Twelve Divine Generals—his most trusted death warriors—to hunt her down. Capturing her alive would be best; failing that, they were to ensure her death beyond doubt. Jade Guanyin fled through many turns until she reached Hong Kong, deliberately seeking refuge with Xia Liu Yi. That was what led to the earlier farce involving the sister-in-law. After conspiring with her, Xia Liu Yi called Golden Maitreya, claiming he would personally escort Jade Guanyin back to Thailand and discuss new cooperation. Suspicious as ever, Golden Maitreya demanded that Xia Liu Yi smuggle her into Thailand by ship—claiming Interpol was watching her closely and fearing she might be caught if she flew—and, as always, permitted Xia Liu Yi to bring only two subordinates.
Xia Liu Yi knew full well the peril of this journey. Even with thorough preparations and meticulous planning, he had no absolute certainty. Before returning home tonight, he had called Qin Hao and finally revealed what they had been preparing for these past weeks: tomorrow they would depart overseas, venture into the tiger’s den to complete a mission with a fifty-percent chance of death, requiring combat to the death. He would pay Qin Hao a substantial sum in advance as a deposit; if they returned alive, there would be more—essentially hiring him as a special mercenary. And he had given Qin Hao one night to decide.
If Qin Hao went, it would be icing on the cake. If he did not, Xia Liu Yi had other arrangements; it would not be a fatal loss. But he knew Qin Hao would go. That lad, though quiet, harbored a ruthless drive and a desire to climb upward. To protect his younger sister and give her a better life, Qin Hao needed money and power—and Xia Liu Yi was his best option.
He could read Qin Hao with absolute certainty, yet he could not read He Chu San at all. The damned brat slept peacefully in his arms, as though completely reassured by his earlier explanation, without the slightest suspicion. Xia Liu Yi always felt He Chu San might stir up some trick or scheme, yet could not guess what. Surely he wouldn’t wake up in the morning and lock him inside the house to stop him from leaving?
On one hand, he guarded against He Chu San suddenly making mischief and disrupting his plans; on the other, he feared that if he left, he might never return, and could not help but steal more glances at him. With eyes wide open and thoughts churning, he lay there until the sky began to lighten.
At the first birdcall outside the window, he glanced out, then looked again at He Chu San, who still slept deeply—after all, he had only slept three or four hours.
After placing a final lingering kiss on He Chu San’s hair, he gently removed the arm wrapped around his waist and slipped out of bed. Picking up the jade Buddha necklace by the bedside, he removed the jade Buddha and threaded He Chu San’s ring onto it, wearing it against his chest. The jade Buddha he tucked into the bedside drawer.
After packing a few simple belongings, he endured the soreness throughout his body and strode out with forced nonchalance. Surrounded by bodyguards, he got into the car, leaned back, and closed his eyes to catch up on sleep.
…
The car drove toward Hung Hom Pier. Qin Hao and Xiao Ma were already there, “escorting” Jade Guanyin, along with Cui Dong Dong, who had come to see them off. Xia Liu Yi murmured a few instructions to Cui Dong Dong, then boarded a small boat with the three of them, slipping out to sea. At the designated point, they transferred onto a cargo ship traveling between Hong Kong and Bangkok. The vessel had long transported “goods” for the cooperation between Xiao Qi Hall and Golden Maitreya; from captain to crew, all were his people—outwardly respectful to Xia Liu Yi, yet secretly observing and scrutinizing him. The ship would reach Bangkok Port in five days—let us leave it at that for now.
…
Meanwhile, that same day, He Chu San slept heavily until noon. Waking to the cold emptiness of a vacated bed, he calmly washed and dressed, gathered the candles, cleaned up, and made himself a simple meal. Holding the ring Xia Liu Yi had given him, he compared it against his fingers for a long while, hesitating whether to wear it on the middle finger or the ring finger—after all, the man had just proposed and then immediately consummated the relationship; was this a proposal ring or a wedding ring? In the end, he solemnly placed it on his ring finger.
He then tidied his appearance, put on casual clothes, left the house, went to the parking lot, and drove out onto the streets.
After only two blocks, he pulled over. The car tailing him also stopped. The two bodyguards inside rolled down their windows obediently and greeted the approaching sister-in-law, “Mr. He.”
“Gentlemen, I plan to treat my little sister Xin Xin to dinner tonight. Why don’t you help me pick her up, and perhaps accompany her shopping this afternoon?” He Chu San said gently.
The two bodyguards hesitated. “But the Boss…”
“Boss had you come to protect me—not to keep me under surveillance, right?” He Chu San smiled faintly. “Or is it truly surveillance?”
The two bodyguards immediately shook their heads like sieves, not daring in the slightest to pin such a charge upon the Boss.
He Chu San smiled again. “Then I’ll trouble you two, brothers.”
He returned to his car and set off once more. In the rearview mirror, he saw the trailing vehicle indeed turn away at the next intersection. Still cautious, he took a detour before finally heading onto the small road leading to the seaside villa district.
Parking before Azure Dragon’s villa, he stepped onto the roof of his car, vaulted the wall, and landed amid lush greenery.
Fresh talisman papers had been pasted upon the villa doors, and the blood-soaked traces in the hall had long since been cleaned away. Pushing the door open, he met the direct gazes of Azure Dragon and Xiao Man from their memorial portraits. With utmost respect, he bowed his head in salute before stepping calmly inside.
He had come to find the “ledger”—the book that concerned the lifeblood of Xiao Qi Hall, and symbolized the transfer of power.
Three years knowing Xia Liu Yi, witnessing the upheavals within and without Xiao Qi Hall, he understood well the importance of that ledger. Xia Liu Yi’s long-standing evasions, his awkwardness whenever “going clean” was mentioned after his release from prison, the shadowy dealings under the “head office,” his recent furtive behavior, the sudden, lingering intimacy of last night—all his doubts might be answered by that book.
And there was also Lu Guang Ming, the ICAC director who had come to his door, even offering up the identity of a police undercover agent in exchange for this ledger. Though He Chu San did not trust Lu Guang Ming, if such an undercover truly existed… should he save Xia Liu Yi or not? He would never harm an undercover, nor reveal their identity to Xia Liu Yi—but as the company’s investment advisor and the sister-in-law, perhaps some subtle maneuvering to edge that agent out of the center of power and cut off their key evidence might still be possible.
He needed that ledger—urgently.
Last time, when he had fled here to escape pursuit, he had already searched the entire house to no avail. Yet he still trusted his judgment: the ledger was here.
He knew Xia Liu Yi too well. When Azure Dragon was alive, such an important ledger had been entrusted to Xia Liu Yi for safekeeping. After ascending to power, Xia Liu Yi would in turn entrust it back to Azure Dragon for “keeping.” When A’Sen had once barged into his home searching for it, that had been overestimating his place in Xia Liu Yi’s heart.
He knew he mattered deeply to Xia Liu Yi—but Azure Dragon’a place was singular, irreplaceable. He was clear about that. Like Xia Liu Yi, he fervently wished Azure Dragon were still alive. If Azure Dragon lived, he could win Xia Liu Yi’s heart openly and honorably. But now, he could never surpass the dead.
Yet he bore Azure Dragon no jealousy or resentment—only reverence. Azure Dragon had saved Xia Liu Yi, raised him, cared for him before He Chu San ever appeared. No number of kowtows could repay that debt.
At that thought, he simply knelt before Azure Dragon and Xiao Man’s memorial tablets and knocked his head three times upon the ground. Beyond gratitude, there was also the meaning of bowing before elders—
Last night, I exchanged rings with your younger brother. From this day on, he is mine.
Lifting his head, he saw their expressions serene, as though they raised no objection to this “marriage.” Their gaze seemed to pass through him toward the doorway—as if watching every person who entered this house. They must be guarding something for Xia Liu Yi.
In that instant, realization struck.
He turned to the only piece of furniture in the hall besides the altar—the lone sofa.
How had he not thought of it before? He knew Xia Liu Yi too well; he had always assumed Xia Liu Yi sometimes came here alone to sit, to clear his mind, to remember the departed. Thus he had never questioned how strange it was for a solitary sofa to sit in an otherwise empty house.
Carefully, he overturned the sofa and felt along its underside. As expected, he found a narrow seam and pried out a small iron box secured with a combination lock.
Six digits.
He did not foolishly enter his own birthday. After a moment’s calculation, he keyed in the date Xia Liu Yi had first met Asure Dragon—seventeen years ago, June 1st: 161975.
With a click, the lock sprang open. Inside lay a thick, yellowed notebook.
It was older than he had imagined, even bearing traces of worm-eaten damage. Flipping through it quickly, he saw that the contents were sparse—nothing but figures and coded names—divided into two directions: one section written from the front forward, another from the back backward.
The forward entries seemed to record long-term partners, each beginning with a code name, followed by dates and staggering amounts. The reverse entries recorded more occasional dealings, each beginning with a date, followed by code names and varying sums.
From the amounts and structure, he made a bold deduction: the forward entries likely recorded Xiao Qi Hall’s illicit businesses over the years; the reverse entries were records of bribes to key “protective umbrellas.”
Time was short. He did not linger, but propped the notebook against the altar and took a small camera from his pocket. Using the sunlight streaming through the doorway, he began photographing its contents.
But as he pressed the shutter on the first page, he noticed through the lens a subtle unevenness in the paper—light and shadow revealing a hidden texture.
He set down the camera and examined the notebook’s front cover. The bottom edge was slightly loose. He pried it open—there was a hidden compartment inside.
He reached in.
Empty.
Something had once been hidden there.
Frowning, he looked again at the first entry:
7.3.1974
K, Wei, Jie
1,587,000
This was the earliest record. The code names “Wei” and “Jie” never appeared again—but “K” recurred frequently among the long-term partners, maintaining dealings with Xiao Qi Hall from 1979 to the present, with amounts growing from modest to millions, even tens of millions.
Was this “K” the same as in the first entry?
As he traced the long list of records following “K,” a chilling thought struck him.
He recalled New Year’s Eve last year—returning from fireworks with Xia Liu Yi, when they had encountered a drunken Xie Jia Hua, who accused Xia Liu Yi of having “made a big deal with a Thai drug lord that very day.”
His finger slid quickly down the entries—and there it was:
4.2.1992
A massive sum—written unmistakably in Xia Liu Yi’s own hand.
Xie Jia Hua had not lied.
That day, Xia Liu Yi truly had made a “big deal.”
Whether this “K” was the same as the first entry or not, it must be the codename of the Thai drug lord long working with Xiao Qi Hall. Judging from the timeline, it could not be Jade Guanyin, who would have been only a teenager back then. Either it was someone else—or Jade Guanyin stood behind an even older kingpin.
Xia Liu Yi had inherited not only the Dragon Head’s Throne, but also the foul, inescapable original sin behind Xiao Qi Hall. Line after line in this ledger—crimes beyond counting.
How much had Xia Liu Yi taken part in?
How much had he led?
Another, colder thought struck him. He quickly compared the dates of dealings between Xiao Qi Hall and “K.” They occurred roughly every six months, with a delay in the year Azure Dragon died. The last entry was just before Xia Liu Yi’s arrest in May—over half a year ago.
—It was time for another “transaction.”
He thought of Jade Guanyin’s sudden appearance… Xia Liu Yi’s recent strangeness… last night’s fervent intimacy… that clumsy “trip to Guangzhou”—
His stomach lurched violently. He gagged, threw down the notebook, and rushed outside.
At the far corner of the courtyard, amid thick greenery, he bent over and vomited everything he had eaten.
Until nothing remained but bitter bile.
Clutching his aching chest, the diamond ring on his finger burned like hot iron.
He had grown up in the lawless Gaau Lung Walled City, surrounded by opium dens. He had seen walking corpses, shattered families, rivers of blood, rotting flesh. No one understood better than he what the word “drugs” meant.
From childhood, his father had taught him propriety, integrity, and self-restraint—to never touch such poison, no matter how dire the circumstances.
In that moment, he almost tore off the ring and walked away.
But he knew his own hypocrisy.
Was this the first day he had known Xia Liu Yi?
The first time Xia Liu Yi had deceived him?
Did he truly know nothing of Xiao Qi Hall’s dealings?
Did he truly not understand what built its fortune?
What ignorance was he pretending?
What innocence?
What righteousness?
He had long since slipped into the abyss—willingly drowning in darkness.
He was hypocritical, selfish, shameless.
He only wanted to save Xia Liu Yi.
Even if Xia Liu Yi was the root of all evil—
even if his crimes were unforgivable.
He forced himself to believe that some goodness still remained in Xia Liu Yi’s heart. He forced himself to believe that Xia Liu Yi could still be saved.
His nails dug into his palm until skin split, pain dragging him back from the brink of his thoughts. Steadying himself, he kicked dirt over the vomit, wiped the blood from his hands, and returned inside.
He reopened the notebook and photographed every page carefully.
Afterward, he wiped away all fingerprints, returned it to the box, restored everything to its original place, and meticulously erased every trace of his presence—even stray hairs on the floor and altar.
Only then did he close the door and leave the villa the way he came.
As if fleeing a devouring swamp, he sped down the mountain road. Stopping by a small roadsid shop, he bought two bottles of water, washed his hands by a trash bin, and drained one in great gulps.
Though it was the depths of winter, a fine sheen of sweat covered his brow.
He pulled Lu Guang Ming’s business card from his pocket, tore it in half—and tossed it into the trash along with the empty bottle.
Futile Devices Scans 
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